


Breakfast at Camp

by fiercy, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill [7]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Superman RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercy/pseuds/fiercy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG <a href="http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read">Citadel</a>. If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed <a href="http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Breakfast at Camp

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read). If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed [here](http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1).

Up at the crack of dawn, Chris spends a long time just watching Henry sleep before he finally eases out from under his lover and gets the fire going, frying up some eggs and bacon, a tin pot of coffee set to roasting as well.

It must be the mountain air. Or the wild, mind blowing sex. Something powerful must be happening to keep Henry asleep when Chris removes the warmth of himself from underneath him. He starts awake when the smell of coffee reaches him, looking around and shaking his head to try to come down to earth.

A little hungover from the events of last night, Henry climbs from the tent in jeans and hiking boots, his shirt slung over his shoulder. "Morning," he finally manages, finding himself a little bit shy.

"Morning," Chris says, smile at full wattage, a hand held out to Henry. "Did you sleep well?"

 _Christ, he's beautiful._ Henry keeps the thought to himself, but the hand held out to him cuts through most of his shyness. Linking their fingers, he gives him his own smile, dropping down onto the ground in front of him in a loose kneel. "Good morning."

Chris's smile widens even more and he leans in, kissing Henry softly but firmly on the mouth. "I watched you sleep for a while," he confesses, drawing back a little, "but you were still dead to the world after an hour or so, so I came on out and started breakfast. Are you hungry?"

Rubbing his hands together in the slight chill of the morning, Henry nods enthusiastically. "Starving." Turning to see if there's anything he can do to help breakfast along, he glances back over his shoulder. "You watched me sleep for an hour?" The blush on his cheeks communicates his feelings on the subject.

"Yeah. It wasn't creepy or anything," Chris assures him. "I was kind of half awake and just lying there, watching you, thinking how beautiful you are." He grins again, reaching for two plates and dishing up their breakfast.

"I wasn't thinking creepy," Henry assures him, taking his plate and grinning back. "I was thinking boring."

"Nope, not boring," Chris says, shaking his head. "You have at least a couple weeks to go before it's boring," he teases, eyes sparkling.

"Ahh . . . it's good to have a time table. I'll use the next two weeks to try to up my sexy quotient," Henry shoots back, his eyes dancing as well.

He glances up at Chris and is immediately captured by his smile. "Christ, you're so beautiful," he whispers softly.

Chris's grin turns mildly sheepish and he ducks his head a little, sticking his fork into his eggs. "Thanks. So are you," he says. "Really, really beautiful."

There's a suspicious lot of color on Henry's cheeks when he takes his first bite of eggs. Then he's digging in with the appetite born of exertion, fresh air, satiation and a sense of excitement. "These are amazing!" he murmurs through a mouthful.

"I put some smoked paprika in them," Chris says, digging into his breakfast with the same gusto. "When you come over to my place, I'll make them really fancy for you. Chorizo, potatoes, hot peppers..."

"Oh my God, you cook. I'm not worthy," Henry says with a happy groan, scooping up another forkful of eggs. "I'll catch you trout for lunch, and clean them if you can make them mouthwatering. Mine always turn out edible but dry."

Chris laughs. "I don't know if I'd call it cooking exactly, but I can usually manage to throw something together and make it worth eating. But I'll definitely take you up on the trout. I hate cleaning fish."

Finishing his breakfast, Henry lays down his plate and moves back over close to Chris, settling at his feet on the ground. "What else do you hate?" he asks, picking up a stick and poking at the fire. "I want to know you."

Chris thinks for a moment. "Okay. I hate people who are fake or stuck-up. I hate smoking. I don't like strong perfumes or colognes and I really hate when people bathe in them. I hate cruelty to animals and I think laws should be as strong to protect them as they are for people." Pausing for a second before he adds, "And I hate brussel sprouts and liver and can't stand mangos or papayas." 

"I hate almost all of those things, too. I must admit, though, that I have a weakness for a good cologne, applied right. I don't like them strong, but a whiff of something spicy when I'm up close?" Henry smiles, "I like that. And I absolutely agree with you about cruelty to animals. The penalty should be as stiff as those for perpetrators against children. Animals are just as helpless."

Chris nods. "Exactly." He finishes his breakfast and sets his plate, motioning for Henry to move closer. "What about you? What else should I know about you?"

Moving in between Chris's legs, Henry rests his head on his thigh. "I'm a doer, not so much a thinker or idea man. I pay most of my PAs on set extra under the table to do planning for me. I want to just show up, whether it be for a day of riding or a business trip." He rubs his cheek against the rough denim of Chris's jeans. "I like meat a _lot_ and I sometimes feel guilty about that, I don't deny myself much of what I want, but my wants are usually fairly simple. I read Hagar the Horrible and laugh out loud, and I've been known to put cut-out Peanuts and Calvin and Hobbs cartoons on my refrigerator to remind me of life lessons."

"I think that's great," Chris murmurs, running his hand through Henry's hair. "What about your taste in men?" he asks. "Are there things I could do, that I should know about, that would totally turn you off or gross you out or make you think less of me?"

"I . . . have a lot of turn-offs, but few that are actually limits, if that makes sense. They would be zeros, not 'nos' on my checklist. I have no desire to experiment with scat, for instance. I'm not really into the extreme fetish stuff, like wearing full rubber suits with gas masks or being turned into something less than human. I'm uncomfortable with any kind of Nazi play, and religious play--well, aside from some Inquisition fantasies that I'm not certain I want to play out in life--it just doesn't move me at all. That said, though, I do like to roleplay. Feet aren't my favorite things to play with, though--strangely enough--boots are right up there at the top of the list." Henry takes a breath and looks up at him. "As for making me think less of you . . . dishonesty, cheating, or being a confusing dom--saying one thing, expecting another or not being clear and then punishing me, stuff like that--could give me pause."

"Define cheating," Chris says softly, brushing a curl back from Henry's temple. "Because we already talked about me still maybe using Citadel sometimes."

"Sex outside of that," Henry answers. "Or outside of any agreement that we might have. I've given it a lot of thought since Friday night, mostly while we were riding yesterday. I had to be sure I was okay going without condoms when you're going to be playing outside the two of us. Maybe it's crazy, because if anyone has a danger of contracting something it's Citadel staff, but I also know how careful they are and I'm going to decide to be okay with that. If I found out you went outside Citadel without telling me, I'd have a big problem with that."

"I won't," Chris says firmly. "I promise. I'll never do anything to put you at risk or fuck up what we're starting here."

Henry suddenly grins. "Then we're golden." He turns his mouth, nipping sharply at Chris's thigh, the denim protecting his skin. "Now I just need to learn my boundaries when we're not completely in role."

Chris groans at that, his cock stirring almost immediately. "I don't think there'll be too many of them," he says. "Unless that's something you want." God knows he could be a hard-ass if that's what Henry was really looking for.

Reaching for his fly, Henry shakes his head. "Not at first. I honestly don't know what I'll want long term. I figure we can work that out together," he murmurs, unzipping Chris's jeans and leaning in to nuzzle against the flesh underneath.

Chris nods, anything else he might say lost in watching Henry, in feeling his lips against his cock. "Good boy," he whispers, sliding his hand into Henry's hair again. "Give me your mouth."

A surge of energy flows through Henry born of the rightness of the words from Chris's mouth. The words draw a whimper from the back of his throat as he opens to take his cock, shuddering at the first taste on his tongue. It takes a few moments to get his angle right, a few ins and outs, back and forths, but finally--with a relieved sigh--his lips are pressed to the crisp curls wrapping the base. Once taken, it gets easier, and Henry wastes no time starting a slow, sucking bob of his head.

"Mm. Feels so good," Chris says, leaning back a little so he can have a better view.

Henry smiles for a few seconds, until it interferes with his rhythm. Then he just gets down to business, his hands finding purchase, kneading at Chris thighs as he redoubles his efforts to make Chris come apart.

A rough gasp tumbles from Chris's lips and he slides his other hand into Henry's hair, hips rocking forward, meeting Henry with every movement. "Yeah, that's it. Just like that," he murmurs.

This is one thing in which Henry is well tested. He's always been a bit of a size man, and he's taken dicks almost as big as this before. That's why the choking, gagging and coughing that comes with the rough mouth fucking doesn't faze him. Tears pouring down his cheeks, drool slipping out the sides of his mouth, he doesn't stop or fight, even when he can't breathe from cock blocking his airway.

"Oh, fuck, _fuck_ ," Chris groans, shoving in even harder as his orgasm crashes over him in waves, his cock pulsing thickly again and again. Flooding Henry's throat.

 _Yes!_ Triumph at those groans rockets through Henry, but he only has a moment to relish it before he's swallowing frantically, trying to capture every, single drop. His cock is harder than he can ever remember it being--well, at least since last night. Somehow he has a feeling he's going to be staying that way for a while. It doesn't stop him from working Chris's cock until it's dry.

Easing back as his cock finally becomes too-sensitive, Chris pulls Henry up for a kiss, cupping his face in both hands and pressing their lips together. "You're incredible," he whispers.

Henry beams (and blushes a bit). "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he murmurs, adopting an American accent for a moment before he laughs and leans in for another kiss. "You taste good."

"So do you," Chris murmurs, kissing Henry again and again. Until. "So... um. Fishing? Or something? Before I decide to spend the rest of day tormenting you."

"Fishing sounds good," Henry agrees, easing back and kneeling, his cock showing its state of arousal in the bulge in his jeans. "There's a great rock just around that bend," he gestures to camp's right. "It juts out over the lake. It's nice and warm and smooth." Warm at this higher elevation this early is welcome. 

"Sounds good to me," Chris says, eyes flickering to that bulge in Henry's jeans. _So hot._ "You want to grab our gear?" he says, ignoring it completely. "While I take a second and clean this up." Motioning at the campfire and remains of their breakfast.

"Sounds good. It'll take me a minute or two to dig up some worms, anyway." Standing up, he brushes his lips over Chris's. "I can't get enough," he admits with a grin. He whistles as he saunters off to find a container for those worms.

Chris watches Henry over his shoulder for a minute then turns back to the fire, quickly washing up the dishes they used and making sure all the food gets put back up, well away from any bears. He knows he's flying by the seat of his jeans, all his experience in being a dominant spent at Citadel, between four walls and with rules already imposed, but so far he thinks he's doing okay and honestly? He's finding the whole thing fucking brilliant. Finding Henry himself even more so.

///

Though his fishing rod is firmly gripped in his hand, Henry is otherwise a puddle of happy, relaxed muscle as he sits and watches the very large trout swim circles around his hook, deciding his fate. Well . . . relaxed muscle unless you count his half-hard cock, in that state since their after breakfast play. He just barely moves his head in the fish's direction. "He's almost as big as your dick," he says softly, grinning.

Chris laughs. "I like the almost," he says, unable to stop smiling. "Are you worried about taking me at all?" he asks, not sure he's ever got a clear answer from Henry on what his past anal play has involved.

Henry thinks about that for a moment, then finally decides on honesty, shaking his head lightly. "Not in the way you mean. I've . . . been rather extensive in my play," he explains. "But as much as I'd like to pretend it's no big deal to finally have someone inside me, you kind of blew my mind with the bare thing. I'm not sure I won't lose my mind."

"Yeah. I know it's hugely cliche," Chris says, almost ashamed of himself for admitting it, "but I am so turned on by the idea of being your first."

"Will I sound like too much like a girl if I admit that I hoped my first real partner would feel that way?" Henry asks quietly, not daring to glance at Chris, sure he'll see laughter in his eyes. "It isn't until right now that I realized that's why I waited," he admits.

"You don't sound like a girl at all," Chris says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the curve of Henry's throat. "You made a personal choice that was right for you and it just happens to be something that really turns the both of us on now."

Henry moans softly at that kiss, tilting his head to give Chris more room. "Bulletproof spot there, mate," he murmurs, but the moment is broken as the rod jerks in Henry's hand. "Well I'll be damned," he says, sitting forward and grinning wide. "I didn't think he'd ever get around to biting!" He jerks the rod slightly to the left, then the right until it feels like the hook has set and starts reeling.

"Unlike me," Chris murmurs, grinning, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Henry laughs, transferring the fish to the catch bucket and rebaiting his hook. "A boy can dream," he says with a sigh, settling back down on the sun-warmed, water-smoothed surface of the rock.

"How many of those do you think we need?" Chris asks, frowning at his own line which remains pathetically ignored.

"Depends on how hungry you are. This one's pretty big." Glancing at his watch, he shrugs. "It's not like we won't be back in civilization in a few hours," he says with a wistful sigh. "Oh that I didn't have work tomorrow."

Chris's sigh echoes Henry's. He shakes his head. "This is going to seem like the longest week ever," he muses, reaching over to run a hand along Henry's thigh. Ground himself in this - _them_ \- being real.

Henry turns to him and smiles. "At least this week our phone conversations won't be full of awkward pauses and things I wish I could say," he murmurs, moving closer to Chris.

"True." Chris leans in, kissing Henry, unable to get enough of his mouth. His hand sliding higher, cupping his boy through his jeans.

Immediately fishing is forgotten. Now there's just Chris, though Henry does think to take his line from the water. Laying his rod aside he gives his whole attention to the taste of Chris's mouth, and the feel of that hand taking him over. He groans, lying down and pulling Chris on top of him.

"You're so hard," Chris murmurs, kneading Henry's cock through the denim, his thumb rubbing roughly over the head as the rest of his hand grinds against the ridge.

Henry flinches against the pain once, then presses back against the rough caress. "Usually am when I'm close to you," he shoots back breathlessly. "You have that effect. Ohgod . . ."

Chris grins. "What would you do if I said you weren't coming today?" he asks, continuing to stroke Henry.

The sinking sense of disappointment is enough to stem the rolling pleasure that was already leading Henry in that direction. His brow furrows and he shrinks away a bit in response. "I'd probably ask you to stop if that's what you want," he answers with a slightly nervous laugh. "I've not done that much, the control thing."

Chris nods. "Okay." Grateful for Henry's honesty. "We'll save that for when we have more time together," he says softly, flicking open the button on Henry's jeans and dragging down his zipper.

Groaning, Henry arches into the air, his freed dick trying to make contact with . . . something.

He nuzzles up against Chris's throat, his arms encircling him and hanging on. "I'd try. I'm just afraid I'd fail," he murmurs, nipping carefully across Chris's chest from one collarbone to the other.

"There's nothing wrong with failing," Chris murmurs. "As long as you're not doing it willfully." Fingers encircling Henry's swollen flesh and stroking slowly.

 _So good_. To say that Chris knows what he's doing is to criminally understate facts. He groans, low and deep in his chest and rocks up into his hand, dropping his head back onto the rock and licking his lips. "Thank you," he breathes. "It feels so damn good."

"I'll bet," Chris says, rubbing his thumb through the precome pearling in the slit. "Especially after I didn't let you come, didn't even touch you, this morning. Just fucked your mouth..."

"Evil," Henry murmurs, looking up at him with laughter in his eyes. He shudders from those words, from that touch, his legs spreading wider, his arms dropping to the sides in supplication.

"Very," Chris agrees, tightening his grip on Henry's cock and stroking harder. "I want to watch you come for me now. I want to see your face, your eyes..."

Henry stares at him for a moment, transfixed, and then he nods. His eyes slide closed as he lets the sensation build, not fighting it even a little anymore. When it's right there, clawing at him and demanding he let go, he opens his eyes again and finds Chris's gaze until everything goes blurry from the shuddering, shaking, soul-searing release that paints them both. There's no breath to shout, no wild sob . . . there's just the silence of caught breath until the sound of Chris's name leaks up as he finally exhales.

It's incredible watching Henry come apart like that. "Good boy," Chris murmurs, smiling, lifting his come-slicked fingers to Henry's lips.

Latching on with one hand around Chris's wrist, Henry starts to lick and suck on Chris's hand and fingers, cleaning him up of every drop. He groans from the taste of it, his body clenching around nothing, inviting Chris in despite the orgasm.

"You are such a good boy," Chris murmurs, his cock throbbing steadily with the touch of Henry's mouth on his skin. " _My_ good boy," he amends. _Mine._

A shot of warmth that has nothing to do with sex infuses Henry's blood. He looks up at Chris, wondering if the sudden devotion he's feeling shows. He redoubles his efforts, pulling two of Chris's fingers into his mouth, sucking with abandon, trying to communicate without words just how much the praise--and the possession--means.

Chris groans, his fingers seemingly connected directly to his cock. "I almost wish we could stay out here," he confesses softly, not wanting to be separated from Henry so soon after they've connected like this. "Hole up in a cabin or tent for a week."

Finally pulling away, Chris's hand completely clean, Henry nods. "I would love that," he murmurs, but he knows as well as Chris does that they're a long way off from that. Their lives are nuts right now with work. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing this week but I know it's full. I'm at the mercy of the production."

"I know. Me too," Chris says, tasting himself on Henry's lips as he kisses him. "It was just wishful thinking." He smiles, pulling back a little. "How long is it going to take you to clean that fish?"

"Five minutes, tops," Henry answers with a grin. "Hungry?"

Chris grins back. "Ravenous."


End file.
